


What is done in love is done well

by theography



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theography/pseuds/theography
Summary: (...) I could feel my soul embracing his soul, turning them into one. All the urgency and chaos, fading in that calm, slow kiss, which was only concerned with feeling every part of what we had of purest and, at the same time, intense.





	What is done in love is done well

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [What is done in love is done well](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411041) by [theography](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theography/pseuds/theography). 



Amid protests, his face hidden behind his hands, some smiles and those laughters that he certainly had no idea of how melodious sounded to my ears, I got my picture. He was smiling. The eyes, naturally small, hid themselves as a result of the curvature on the thin lips, slightly showing his teeth. His hands blocked the sight of his beautiful features — on the other hand, they gave the photograph the uniqueness of everything that Kim Mingyu was made of; for me, as well as for others, but I still was the only one to observe ( _ and to keep carven in my heart _ ) each one of his beautiful characteristics.   
  
— Wonwoo! — He protested helplessly through the laughter that filled the room. Everything was so magical that I could forget that we were in public. I couldn't hear the outside noises: all that filled my ears was the pleasant sound of that young man's laughter.   
  
— What? — I let my laughter find his, at the end of the sentence. — You want to see it?   
  
— Do I? — He seemed confused. His cheeks were carrying a vivid tone of red, exposing his embarrassment.   
  
— Yes, you do. Look — I handed him the camera. — This boy owns all the love I have in me, and he probably doesn’t even know it. He doesn’t know how his smile accelerates the beating of my heart. He doesn’t know how heartwarmed I feel now, just for being able to register the pureness of his beauty… yet the photograph can’t accurately portray all the small details of his features.   
  
Of course, the kind of relationship we had allowed these words to freely escape from between my lips. However... Mingyu and I were  _ not _ boyfriends. We didn’t have the  _ label _ . We didn’t need to fulfil the utopian concept of fidelity — at least not  _ carnal _ fidelity, since all my beautiful feelings had  _ only one _ reason: him.   
  
He should have known it wasn’t just a cliché sentence.   
  
His reactions told me otherwise.   
  
The seriousness and love carved in each one of the syllables tried, tirelessly, to make him realize that it wasn’t a joke: I belonged, in body, soul and heart, to that boy sitting in front of me.   
  
Mingyu, at this point, seemed to be trying to assimilate those words spoken by me. His embarrassed countenance and the timid chuckling faded away. An expression that, even today, I’m not able to delineate, took over his face, and fear took over me.   
  
Years had passed. Years of this feeling growing bigger and bigger. His smile has always been my weak point, specially when he seemed to show it only for me. I didn't know how to control something this big for any longer... something  _ bigger than me _ . I found on him more than someone who simply captivated me: I  _ loved _ him. I  _ love _ him. I  _ will continue to love _ him, until my breath becomes extinct.   
  
— As a photographer, Jeon Won-woo, you're an exquisite poet — And then finally his eyes focused on mine. — I'm not saying that the picture isn't good... but I like your words more than that.   
  
He could take a completely different posture from the shy Mingyu, in a matter of seconds. That was one of the tricks observed by me, and loved by my heart.   
  
— You can be sure that those words were as meaningful as this picture — I barely managed to say.   
  
— I wish I could capture them in a picture, even though you make me dive into an ocean of embarrassment by complimenting me this much. Anyways… my favorite part of your speech is the part where you talk about your feelings. They're just like mine.   
  
He did not give me space for answers. It is the most beautiful memory I carry on my heart. My eyes staring at his eyes, closer and closer, until they were forced to close as a result of such closeness. Mingyu was leaning over the table that divided us, but it wasn't enough to separate us; his lips touched mine. More than that: I could feel my soul embracing his soul, turning them into one. All the urgency and chaos, fading in that calm, slow kiss, which was only concerned with feeling every part of what we had of purest and, at the same time, intense. Our lips danced one upon another in their own harmonious rhythm, silently dictating all the words that were lost in the scarce vocabulary: nothing could describe all those feelings — nothing but the silence of when two souls become one. The physical contact that went beyond words. The most beautiful feeling in evidence. Love, in its purest form.   
  
His hand was resting on my face, giving me all the calm I needed at that moment. My lips never found themselves in such a perfect fitting — they wouldn't nor wished. Even my skin belonged to Kim.   
  
His tongue caressed mine, slowly, as my soul embraced his soul, intending to dive even deeper on him; our feelings were talking while our mouths were occupied in the slow caress of the muscles.   
  
The kiss ended when Mingyu had to verbalize the sentence that, nowadays, I still hear, carefully appreciating every second of it.   
  
— I love you, Jeon Won-woo — He whispered, close to my lips. Our looks intertwined with difficulty. — I always did. I will always do.   
  
My heart couldn't decide if it should fail, or if it should beat so hard that it made my chest burn like fire consumed me inside; I didn't care. All my mind could think of was the immeasurable love that was filling my body and soul, and that was, now, clearly reciprocal.   
  
I couldn’t utter a single word. I took my man by the hand, bringing him near me, where nothing else stood between us. My arms wrapped him around. My head rested on his chest as I squeezed him as close as I could. I needed to feel it was real. I had to have him in my arms, as much as I had him carved into my soul.   
  
— I love you,  _ my angel _ — I whispered at last.   
  
He pressed my body against his even more. That was the safest place I could be.   
  
And it was at that moment that I realized: we didn’t need any title. We were simply and purely lovers. We were safe by the feeling we cultivated for each other. We had a lot more than a simple courtship — we had this love that involved us completely.  _ "And what is done in love is done well”. (Vincent Van Gogh) _

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is an one-shot I wrote a long time ago, originally in portuguese, which is my first language (therefore, if you find anything grammatically wrong, take it easy on me because I tried really hard to translate it).
> 
> Also, I was inspired by this Van Gogh's quote about love:  
> “It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done”.
> 
> Leave your feedback on the comments down below! Send me love, or anything else you have to offer.  
> Hope you enjoyed my story.
> 
> With love, T.


End file.
